SHINING CLOUDS

Birds are torn like milk
White as feather, as silk,
Behind the trees sun blinks
And threw his light red inks.
These many lights, red birds
Often speaks some words,
They breathe with hot sigh
And cold air, they deny.
These birds are the clown
Have covered the trees town
It can be a perfect place
Children can play or race.
Two trees but not so far
Are shining as Neutron star,
One in front and one behind
Can give the light to dark blind,
Even they can heal oldest wounds
Oh! Yes these birds are the clouds.